Over the Top

by Cindy Dees

  Welp. The cavalry had arrived. Only hitch: it had headed for the Brentwood estate and not here.

  Should he continue to stay put? Or maybe get down and make a run for the road and all those lovely armed police?

  As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it. He trusted Gunner with his life, and if Gunner said to stay here, he would do that. He might hate Gunner’s profession, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the man was extremely good at his job.

  Maybe time passed faster knowing the police were nearby, or maybe it was just knowing an end to this nightmare night was in sight. But before long, Gunner murmured in his ear, “It’s all clear out here. Either that or the bastards are better than me.”

  Chas sincerely doubted the Oshiro gang members were better than a SEAL. “I’m willing to bet my life on your being better,” he murmured back. “Can I get down, go inside, and get warm now?”

  “Yes.”

  Praise the Lord and pass the potatoes. He uncurled and was shocked at how stiff he was. He whole body felt like a board. He dangled his feet over the edge as he pushed back on his belly, shoving himself backward until his hips hung off the edge of the porch. Letting go, he controlled his fall and rolled all the way back to his feet.

  And then Gunner was there, wrapping him up in a crushing hug.

  “Jeez. You’re an ice cube. Let’s go inside,” Gunner murmured.

  He followed Gunner up the front steps and into the living room. Chas reached for the lights, but Gunner grabbed his wrist. “Leave the lights off.”

  “Any reason why?”

  “Well… yeah.”

  “Care to tell me why?”

  “Umm, there’s a dead guy in the dining room. Thought I’d spare you that sight.”

  “There’s a what?”

  “There were two hostiles in the house. I neutralized them both. Surely you heard the shooting.”

  “I was in denial. Shouldn’t we tell the police?”

  “We will. Once the situation across the street is contained. I’d rather not siphon off FBI resources until all the tangoes over there are dead or in custody. When Spencer reports that he’s in the clear, I’ll let him know we’ve got a couple bodies over here.”

  “Right. But gross.”

  Gunner guided him across the living room to the sofa. “I’ll go get us some blankets.”

  Chas nodded, watching Gunner move swiftly upstairs. That was when the smell of blood abruptly overpowered his nose. His stomach threatened to revolt, but then Gunner was back, handing him shoes and wrapping him a thick blanket.

  Gunner sat down and pulled him against his side. “When you called to say there was someone in the house, I swear it took twenty years off my life.”

  “Really?” Chas replied. “I figured that would be normal everyday stuff to you.”

  “Not when it’s you in danger.”

  “Aww. Feeling a little warmer now.”

  Gunner murmured, “They say sex is a great way to warm up.”

  Chas laughed under his breath. “We don’t know everyone’s safe over at the Brentwood place yet. Speaking of which, should you head over there?”

  “The FBI will have brought a small army with them. I would just be in the way.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, Gunner.”

  “Me too. You did good. How in the hell did you make it onto the porch roof?”

  “I went out the bedroom window. It was a stretch, but my rock-climbing skills gave me an edge.”

  “Nice piece of climbing. That took serious strength.”

  “I figured if the bad guys found me, they might kill me. Turns out that’s a pretty good motivator to try hard.”

  Gunner said sharply, “They would have killed you for sure—and me—if I hadn’t killed them first.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. Then Chas said, “It seems disrespectful to sit here like this with two dead men in the house.”

  “My sympathy for them is limited.”

  “They were still human beings,” Chas responded mildly.

  “Human beings who made very bad choices.”

  Chas shrugged beneath his cocoon of blankets. “I’ll never approve of killing.”

  “Can you accept that it’s necessary sometimes?” Gunner asked in obvious alarm.

  Chas frowned. “In theory. But in practice, I have to ask myself if there was another way to handle all of this. I mean, you guys set them up. You laid an ambush and then killed them when they walked into it. Why couldn’t we have tried something else first?”

  “Because that’s not how people like this operate.”

  “You don’t know that for sure. You didn’t even try anything else.”

  “I cannot believe we’re having this conversation,” Gunner muttered. “I just killed two men to save your life. And Spencer and Drago are picking off hostiles in the woods across the street to save Poppy’s.”

  “I don’t like it,” Chas replied stubbornly.

  “So you’d have preferred to die rather than have me take out the guys who came in here to kill you?” Gunner asked in disbelief.

  “I could’ve tried to run away. If you hadn’t come, that’s what I would have done. In that scenario, you wouldn’t have had to kill those guys. Which I suppose means their deaths are on my hands too.” He fell silent as the reality of that sunk in and appalled him.

  “Stop, Chas,” Gunner said sharply. “They broke into this house intent on killing you. Their team had already figured out Poppy wasn’t here. They had no reason whatsoever to come in here except to kill you. It was revenge, straight up. Don’t start feeling sorry for a couple of violent killers who were bent on murdering you. They would have chased you down, and believe me, they’d have caught you. They were wearing the same kind of tactical gear I was.”

  “I hear you. But—”

  “No buts. Some people are simply in need of killing.”

  “I can’t agree with that,” he declared. “I hate all of this.”

  “Hell, I hate killing. But in my world, it often comes down to kill or be killed. If you can accept that, then we’re okay. But if you can’t, then we’ve got a problem.”

  Chas clamped his mouth shut so he wouldn’t say something he could never retract. But God, it was hard. He was not the bad guy here for being unable to accept outright killing as a viable option for dealing with problems. Sure, he’d had to defend himself a few times over the years. But punching a guy a few times was a far cry from putting a bullet in his head.

  Where did it stop? This wasn’t a sanctioned SEAL mission, but Gunner thought it was okay to kill in this situation. What if a more casual friend’s life was threatened? Was it okay then? Or what if the threat was slightly more vague? Was a lethal response still okay? What if an asshole in a bar assaulted Chas? How much violence was okay then? Or what if Chas really, really pissed him off? Would Gunner resort to violence in that situation?

  No matter how many ways he turned it over in his head, examining the morality of it from every angle, he couldn’t find a way to accept murder as a necessary evil.

  “I’m sorry, Gunner. I just can’t.”

  Gunner’s arm tightened around his shoulders briefly, convulsively, and then fell away from him.

  Gunner stood up swiftly, silently, every inch a predator, and disappeared into the night, leaving Chas to sit alone on the sofa with his regrets and a dead man in the next room.

  GUNNER EXHALED hard in frustration for at least the hundredth time. How could Chas do this to them? How could he ask him to choose between the only kind of career he knew and their love?

  He and Chas had spent most of the night separately writing out statements for the police and being interrogated by the FBI after the agents had secured the Brentwood estate. A few dead Oshiro gang members’ bodies had been collected and the rest of the gangsters arrested. It had taken hours to clear the entire grounds of the estate, but eventually Mr. and Mrs. Brentwood, Poppy, and the nanny/bodyguard friend of Drago’s ha
d been let out of the panic room. They were all spending the night at the Brentwood mansion under heavy FBI guard.

  Gunner’s interrogators had made him start at the beginning, when he’d gotten that frantic phone call from a childhood friend begging for help, and had him walk them all the way through to clearing the house and killing the intruders.

  The good news was initial forensics indicated that the weapons the Oshiro gang was using were the same types that had shot up all those people in Misty Falls. The FBI was inclined to be lenient with several ex-Spec Ops types who’d taken down the perpetrators of the Misty Falls massacre, and he, Spencer, and Drago had all been released around dawn.

  The house was taped off as a crime scene, so they’d picked up Chas, piled in a truck, and driven to a local diner, where they’d ordered a mountain of food and dug into it.

  Spencer and Drago put their heads together across the booth to discuss something in private, which left him and Chas sitting side by side in awkward silence.

  Gunner muttered the one thought that had been on his mind ever since their disastrous talk last night. “How can you ask me to choose between you and my job? You know how much it means to me. It’s not just some nine-to-five gig for the paycheck, and you know that too.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Chas ground out under his breath.

  “Then explain it to me. For God’s sake, help me understand.”

  “Tell me something, Gunner. If you had to choose between what you believe in most and me, could you do it?”

  Dammit. “Depends on what you mean by ‘what you believe in most,’ I suppose.”

  “The thing you believe in above all else. Your deepest, most closely held belief. For example, my deepest belief is that love is the answer to most of what’s wrong in the world today.”

  “I have no idea what my deepest belief is,” he argued, frustrated. God, he hated having to dig around in his feelings as if they were some dead animal he was dissecting.

  “Well, I know you believe in your teammates. They’re family to you, and you’d do anything for them, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Could you choose between letting your teammates die or letting me die?”

  “That’s not fair. I’d try to save all of you.”

  “Can you choose between a life with your SEAL family or with me?”

  “I think I already have.”

  “Could you give up being a soldier, being a warrior, for me?”

  “It’s not that simple. It’s not as if I can unlearn all the things I know how to do. I’ll always be a warrior, whether you like it or not.”

  “Could you quit killing?”

  “I’d give that up forever in a heartbeat if my work allowed for it.”

  “Does that mean you’re willing to go back to college, get that history degree, and settle down to teaching with me?” Chas pressed. “And never pick up a weapon again? Never harm anyone again?”

  Gunner squeezed his eyes shut tightly and asked grimly, “Are you making that a condition of our continued relationship?”

  “What if I were?”

  “I asked first.”

  It was Chas’s turn to sigh. “That’s what my heart wants. In my head, I don’t think it would be fair. I got into this relationship knowing who and what you are.”

  Gunner exhaled hard. Again. Why couldn’t Chas understand what his career meant to him? He tried to explain. “Look. I love working with men like Spencer and Drago. It’s who I am. More to the point, it’s who I want to be. I like this version of myself. I’m strong, self-sufficient, and I can protect the people I care about.”

  “I do understand the allure of all that. Believe me, I got picked on a lot more than you did as a kid. But I also grew up. I learned how to use my words to deflect most idiots and my fists to deflect the rest. I don’t need your protection. But I don’t condone killing people. That’s my line in the sand.”

  “I hear you, Chas. I even believe you. But I still want to be able to look out for you.”

  “At some point, you’re going to have to acknowledge that I’m an adult and can take care of myself.”

  “It’s not about you. It’s who I am. SEALs are in the business of protecting lives. Of using violence when necessary to stop bad things from happening to innocent people. Violence is a tool, not an end in and of itself.”

  “You’re splitting hairs,” Chas accused.

  “They’re important damned hairs. They make the difference between me being the murderer you accuse me of being and an honorable warrior protecting his country and its people.”

  “I’m not questioning your patriotism. Just your chosen methods for defending it.”

  “Aren’t you splitting hairs by saying it’s okay to use some force, but it’s not okay to use lethal force?” Gunner accused.

  Chas didn’t answer. He merely turned away, staring out the window of the diner in stony silence.

  So that was it? They were over? Because Chas couldn’t wrap his head around what SEALs did and why? He refused to believe that they couldn’t find a way through this. The alternative panicked the living hell out of him. Gunner knew deep down in his gut that he would never love another man the way he loved Chas. And furthermore, he was pretty damned sure he would never find another man who loved him the way Chas did.

  “You were happy enough to have my SEAL skills at your beck and call when you and Poppy were in trouble. Isn’t it a wee bit hypocritical to wring your hands and claim I’m being too violent now?”

  “Pulling me out of a dangerous situation and killing people are two entirely different things!”

  “No, Chas. They’re not,” he ground out. “I was prepared to kill anyone who tried to hurt you the night I came to Misty Falls. I was equally prepared not to kill anyone tonight if they didn’t escalate the situation enough to make it necessary.” He took a breath and continued more calmly, “Sometimes there are going to be jobs where the rules of engagement are to kill or be killed. But I promise you I never kill when it’s not absolutely necessary.”

  Chas was silent.

  What the hell was going on inside Chas’s head? His stony expression wasn’t giving away a thing. Gunner asked reluctantly, “Is that enough for you?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Chas said quietly.

  Gunner squeezed his eyes shut hard, shocked to feel an excess of moisture in them.

  From across the table, Spencer said, “Drago and I agree on what should happen next. We want to run it by you two.”

  Gunner looked up bleakly. It was hard to care about a damned thing when his heart was cracking like a sheet of ice that had just had a wrecking ball dropped on it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  CHAS COLLECTED Poppy out of her car seat, which had been strapped into one of the plush leather seats on the private jet Kenji Tanaka had sent for them. Poor kid was cranky and out of sorts after spending almost twelve hours inside the jet. They’d stopped in California to refuel and had gotten out and stretched their legs, but the toddler was pretty much done with being confined.

  She wriggled furiously, starting into what he expected was about to be a total meltdown. “Your turn to chase her,” he murmured to Gunner. “Ready?”

  Gunner rolled his eyes and slipped his backpack off, then set it down beside him.

  Chas set Poppy down and she took off like a shot with Gunner right behind her, heading for the elaborate planters filled with tropical foliage and flowers that lined the arrival walkway at Honolulu International Airport.

  Chas watched listlessly as Gunner scooped up Poppy and blew raspberries on her tummy until she squealed with laughter. God, they were good together. He would have loved to raise a family with Gunner. The two of them were just different enough that between them, they would have made an excellent set of parents.

  Chas turned to Drago. “And you’re sure the DNA match was positive? Kenji Tanaka is definitely her father?”

  “One hundred percent positive.” Drago added l
ow, “Sorry, dude. I know how close you and Gun have gotten to her.”

  “I’m sure Tanaka will let you visit her from time to time, if you’d like to,” Spencer said from Drago’s other side. “After all, he owes her life to you, Chas. You saved her from the Oshiros that night in Misty Falls.”

  If he was a hero, he didn’t feel much like one. He felt as if the past few weeks had ripped his guts out, thrown them on the ground, and stomped around on them until they were bloody mush.

  They climbed into the big SUV Spencer had rented, and Chas put a deeply—and loudly—annoyed Poppy into her car seat one more time while the guys loaded bag after bag of military gear into the back of the vehicle. He crawled in beside the screaming toddler and pulled out her blue stuffed elephant to waggle it in front of her.

  “Mr. Elephant is sad when Poppy screams like a baby. She’s a big girl now. Can she tell me how old she is?”

  Gradually, he calmed the tantrum with his one-man puppet show. They drove for a while, heading inland on narrow winding roads through lush tropical jungle. They pulled into a gated drive, and Drago, who was driving, punched in a code on the security pad. Then they wound a long way back through more jungle.

  Eventually a clearing came into sight, with a wooden chalet-style house surrounded by huge covered porches in the middle of it.

  “Home sweet home,” Spencer announced.

  “How’d you know about this place?” Gunner asked from Poppy’s other side.

  “Borrowed it from a friend a few years back for R and R after a long deployment,” Spencer answered. “I called and asked him if he’d mind if we shacked up here for a few days while the handoff gets made.”

  “How’s this handoff going to work?” Chas asked without any enthusiasm.

  “Tanaka’s flying to Hawaii, and his security team is going to make sure the Oshiros haven’t followed him. When he knows he’s in the clear, he’s going to come here, collect Poppy, and then go home to Japan. Pretty straightforward, actually.”